


Blind Hope

by howrseluvar



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys, F/M, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Love Triangles, Major Character not-quite Deaths, Violence, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howrseluvar/pseuds/howrseluvar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The only thing stronger than fear is hope"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Solo

**Author's Note:**

> So I was searching and found my Killjoy name. "Massive Frequency". and I don't know why, but I REALLY wanted to write a fic based on that.  
> So this character is loosely based on me. Disclaimer, I said loosely. 
> 
> Here she is: [Blind Hope set](http://www.polyvore.com/blind_hope/set?id=59504612)

It wasn’t like she liked running. It wasn’t easy going solo. Many times, she was pursued by more Dracs than she could count on her fingers.

The one thing Free was good at, however, was running. She hit the throttle on her motorcycle and turned onto Route Danu with a steady persistence.

She had some blind hope somebody else was out there. That she wasn’t the only one. Free couldn’t admit she stopped much to pick up a magazine, because she didn’t. She never stopped. 

That was partially a lie. It was getting to be late, the sun just had a few last tendrils in the sky. Danu wasn’t lit in any way, shape, or form, and she’d accidentally taken out the lights on her bike a long time ago. She would have floored it, but Danu wasn’t the straightest of routes. Free didn’t care much where she slept anymore, as was evident by how she randomly just pulled off the road to sit at the side. She wanted to be close, just in case.

Just in case she had to keep running.

The only thing stronger than fear was hope. She sat crosslegged, staring at the little flicker of a fire she made with the limited supplies out in the zones, trying to lull herself into a daze. She couldn’t quite make herself do it. Free reached into her backpack and pulled out the little radio unit. It was something she stole from the Dracs and modified for herself. She flipped a few switches, but only got static. She took a shallow breath, staring at the little boxand wishing with everything. She pressed the red button on top.

“Massive Frequency checking in. Anybody out there?” and she was greeted with total and utter silence. She tried twice more.

Nobody was out there tonight. She was still alone.


	2. Introduction

Free blinked her eyes open. Sometime last night, she had managed to fall asleep after all on her folded-up jacket. She set in the post-sleep haze for a moment before she registered a sound in the distance.

There was the sound of a chorus of engines maybe a mile back. 

“FUCK!” she screamed in frustration as she scrambled to slide her jacket and helmet on, kick her bike to life, and get the fuck out of there. Adrenaline coursed through her as she tried to gain ground she was losing fast to the patrol of Dracs as she dodged back and forth to make herself a moving target. She snuck a glance back and counted. Six. Six Dracs against one. Ray blasts flew all around her ad she pushed the bike to the very limit she could drive in control. The speedometer was pointing at 114 right now, and they still were catching up. Problem was, they were traveling in two rows of three. 

She grinned. Free made a sharp right, and glanced back to admire her move. They couldn’t manage what she did in their formation, and the far left Drac crashed into the middle, who crashed into the far right one. And when the front row was down, the back row plowed straight into them.

She hadn’t expected the next blast, though. One of them who was still alive and kicking, but trapped, managed to shoot a straight shot that singed her arm. She screeched and nearly swerved off, but in some sort of miracle, didn’t lay down the bike. She continued on, tears in her eyes as the singing pain in her right arm was registering, for another ten minutes before she pulled over.

It was a pretty bad blast. Her arm smelled slightly of rotting flesh, but largely of smoke. She shakily placed her left hand by it and hissed. With absolutely nothing to take proper care of it in her possession besides pouring some water over it, Free used a purple bandana and tied it as best she could to cover it, since her jacket also had a large hole in it.

Damn Dracs had ruined her jacket.

She continued on, trying to ignore the shooting pain in her arm as she passed into Zone 3. She had no direction in particular, she just wanted to get away. She turned her bike onto Route Guano, as labeled by a beat-up, rusted, but still readable sign.

Miles and miles of bland desert landscape greeted her. Seeing the same thing for miles on end was a relaxing thing, kind of like a lullaby was to a child. She always felt safe in the open, feeling like she would be trapped if she got enclosed. 

Somewhere is the highway syndrome, she blinked twice. Something was there in the distance, and it wasn’t just another tumbleweed. It was a building. An actual building. Questions swirled through her mind as she approached it, slowing down finally. Pulling in to a little parking area that was right in front of it, she killed the ignition on the bike but remained on it, taking off her helmet and letting her hair loose. It was eerily quiet, labeled with many gas station signs, but upon close observation, was inhabited recently. 

Or now, she realized when she heard the soft click of a ray gun firing up behind her head. She held her hands up, her right arm trembling.

“Who are _you?_ ” a voice sneered behind her. Well, at least she could tell she wasn’t being held up by a drac. Still, she wished for the comfort of her mask.

“Massive Frequency,” she answered, well trained never to use her real name.

“Kobra,” he said to somebody behind him. Free didn’t dare turn her head, but out of the corner of her eye, saw a tall, lanky figure open up her side bag and sort through her stuff. Her right arm was screaming at her and she was on the verge of crying from the pain of it.

“She’s clean,” Kobra said to whoever was behind her. As soon as she could tell the gun dropped,, so did her hands and her left hand flew over to cover the wound, trying to soothe it.

“Come on, let’s get inside,” she came face-to-face with a red-haired figure. “Kobra” walked toward the building first, another one carrying a blue gun- obviously, the one that was pointed at her head- followed, followed by one in a yellow shirt holding a little girl’s hand. She dismounted here bike, following a little untrustingly behind the red-haired person. She glanced at the symbol he had on his jacket and tried to see if she could make it out. Something with a pill and an x. She was led inside to the renovated interior of a gas station, made to have messy beds scattered in random places, lots of random parts, a booth for eating, among other things. She glanced around as everybody gathered themselves in the big room. Two sat on the benches in the booths, the one she saw earlier with the little girl now sat on one of the cots with her next to him as the little girl glared at her warily. The red-headed one leaned against the table, standing up and folding his arms, and she remained standing awkwardly in the center of the room.

“Who are you,” he asked again.

“Massive Frequency. Free.” She said, swallowing to soothe her dry throat. They had so much water stored around here, she noticed. 

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen,” she answered.

“And you’re riding a motorcycle?”

“Because you’re in perfect compliance of the laws,” she remarked sarcastically.

He quirked a smile and gave a half-nod. 

“Alright,” he said, pausing for a moment to think. “I’m Party Poison. That’s Jet Star, Kobra Kid, Fun Ghoul, and Missile Kid.” He said, pointing to each of them. She nodded, sure she was able to memorize names. She also noted whatever original hostility was there had left in an instant. When you were fighting to survive, that made sense.

“How the hell did you manage to get here?” he asked.


	3. Adjusting

“If we don’t clean it, it’s going to get infected,” Kobra remarked, peeling the bandana off as carefully as he could and tossing it to the trash. It wasn’t worth salvaging.

Jet was holding one shoulder and Kobra seemed to give some sort of silent signal. Jet handed her a roll of cotton and she looked at it a moment with a little twinge of fear as she placed it between her teeth. She gripped tight onto the bed with her free hand onto the bed and closed her eyes, trying to change her thoughts to happy things, like a good steak, a new jack-

She screeched and bit down hard on the cotton at the first touch of the alcohol. He persisted despite her protests and Jet’s need to hold her hand down so she didn’t knock him accidentally. It hurt so fucking bad, her vision sparked white.

Even though it was only a few seconds, it felt like forever before Kobra was finished. She opened her eyes to see him wrapping a white roll of bandages around it. She caught a glance at the rubbing alcohol bottle which was obviously from before the Apocalypse. It was labeled…wow, 2010. She had been six. The kit wasn’t fresh, but it was better than leaving her wound wide open, they were right.

She rubbed her hand over the bandage gently. It stung like a bitch, but painkillers were reserved only for the worst things, being so rare to come by.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“I can’t take this, guys,” She looked at Missile and Ghoul. In front of her was a shiny new ray gun – obviously stolen from one of the vending machines- painted in purple and decorated by Missile herself, as was evident by the prideful smile on her face. Missile had refused to talk to her for a few days, but then opened up, and was now talking to Free just like she would any of the other Killjoys.

“Why not?” Missile looked a little disappointed. 

“Because I’ve never shot a gun,” Free stared at it as if it was going to jump up and bite her.

Ghoul twirled his own green gun in his fingers. “It’s not that hard.” He had this look of determination. All of them had been trying to fit Free in as best they could, maybe even overextending themselves, but Free was powerless to stop their trying. “C’mon” he said, standing up. Free followed him, carefully picking the gun up, and Missile skipped beside them both out the back door. Ghoul led her to the side of the building, where a makeshift target was set up. Free bit her lip.

Ghoul demonstrated for her, raising his right arm and not blinking before shooting and hitting dead center.

“It doesn’t have much kick to it, you can shoot one-handed,” Ghoul commented, standing by her as she shakily raised her still-sore right arm. She inhaled, closed her eyes, and pressed the trigger on the gun, feeling the small but of recoil it gave and the heat. Ghoul was laughing when she opened her eyes, and Missile was giggling. She looked- she’d totally missed. Dramatically. Free had managed to hit a barrel about five feet to the right.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he said in between laughs, coming to stand right beside her. He stood beside her because he was too short to actually reach all the way up. He held her wrist and put his hand over hers, his finger over her trigger finger.

“You ready?” he winked. Free nodded, but no, no she really wasn’t. They depressed the trigger and Free had the satisfaction or watching it just miss the center mark by a few inches.

“We might just make a good shot out of you yet,” he commented, dropping his hand as a blush rose over her cheeks.


	4. Na Na Na

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a sixth Killjoy you never saw in the video. Based on "Na Na Na"

It was a few days later when they had to run. The tell-tale roar of motorcycle engines – BL/i didn’t specialize in subtle entries- said they had to go. 

“We don’t have enou-“ Poison started, just as Free held up her helmet with a smirk. “Alright, ride ahead of us,” he said. “If we get separated, head to Zone 6,”

Free put her helmet on and kicked her bike to life in a flash, thrilled with finally being able to ride again for a while.

The reason it was easy to tell her apart was not only the flashy purple helmet, but her black was jet black. She’d also stolen this from a Drac and completely redid it, using what she remembered from her dad teaching her, and her old boyfriend. Either way, it was actually better than a Drac’s standard-issue bike, which raised questions as to why BL/i couldn’t do their bikes better. Oh well.

She rode right in front of the Trans-AM, using it as cover from the ray gun blasts. Ghoul and Jet were two impressive shots. Kobra wasn’t bad, either, but he didn’t shoot as often. They stopped every so often as new waves of Dracs came in and they needed more fuel, or to get new guns, whatever the need was at the time.

They had to split about another mile down the road, as she interpreted from a gesture from Poison. She throttled on ahead, only two out of the fleet of Dracs following her. She wove back and forth, dodging their shots, but not brave enough to reach for the purple ray gun on her belt. She had another tool in mind.

Turns out, Ghoul was pretty good at machines. Free was better. When he showed her a prototype of one that would knock out a motorcycle, it only took a day for her to get it fully-functional. It was an EMP gun, at its very essence. She took out the little device carefully, making sure she kept her balance as to not shift the bike and get herself knocked out. She pointed and depressed the button, and a silent pulse emitted. Almost immediately, the Dracs went flying when their bikes stopped under them and swerved out, and Free was home free.

She had a hazy idea of roads, Either way, she was pulling through Zone Six at sundown, and following the tire prints of the trans-am to the Killjoys’ location. She was a little late, as was evident by how Poison was using his radio to try and get a hold of her. They greeted her with a smile as she joined their little bonfire.  
“It worked, Ghoul,” she grinned, tossing him the little device.

He looked at it and pocketed it. “Told you so,”

Then they all heard a ruckus. Poison took a stick from the fire that was just lit on top and used it to light the way. Free and Jet chose to put on a mask. Missile had given her a new one. Missile liked the black-and-purple theme, as was evident by how she designed the mask. It was black, with purple flames around the eyes, and the white oval over each eye. Jet put his helmet on, and Missile seems excited that Free chose to wear her mask, but it was split with the anticipation of whatever was out there. One of the Dracs had managed to find them. Jet quickly withdrew his gun and took him out. It didn’t matter, though, they’d have to move. BL/i was tracking their Dracs, so it was now evident where the Killjoys were.

Free had to make the decision that she’d go now back to the station. It split them up, but she was safer at night, and she could get a whole new roundup of supplies ready. She hugged Missile before she went and Ghoul winked at her. She returned the smile and nodded at each of them. “See you tomorrow, Sunshines,” she said before kicking the bike to life and taking off. 

Not being chased by Draculoids made the route a lot shorter. She was back at the station by the time Dr. D was up for the morning broadcast. She waved to him just to tell him he was back as he was doing his introduction, so he relayed the information to the Killjoys listening in indirectly. “And would you look at that, Massive Frequency is back in the house. Let me play one for her,” he said, putting in the record for some obscure song she never heard of. It didn’t matter, that was just code to Poison that she was back safely.

She went and started to gather supplies into new bags, working methodically to make sure they had everything. With her superior packing skills, she was even able to fit an extra can of Power Pup in every bag. 

It was late afternoon, and Free had already been to the target to see if she got any better, but only one of her shots got remotely close. She was about to shoot again when she heard the roar of the Trans-Am rolling back to the station. Poison got out and stormed in, frustrated and she watched the rest stumblr in with various wounds, looking like hell. 

But no Missile Kid. Free’s mouth dropped open as she pushed in the door. “Poison!” she said.

“Korse took Grace.” He said through hoarse breaths, He’d stripped the jacket to reveal a large blast to his lungs. Kobra and Ghoul had similar injuries, but Ghoul had taken something to the face. Jet was the worst of them, they’d gotten him in the face. They soon figured out his right eye may very well be past being able to be usable again. He made a weak joke about pirates as Free sorted around the first-aid kit for an eye patch.

They had her, though. They had Missile. And that was the worst loss of all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set before/after the events of SING.
> 
>  
> 
> [Here's her new Killjoy symbol. It's really uncreative. haha.](http://i47.tinypic.com/2ywb76e.png)

Free was a wreck. In between caring for the injured, she had caught some sort of sickness – maybe she was really sick with worry- that was slowing her down. She’d barely slept the night before and it showed. 

She hadn’t realized everybody was plotting while Show Pony gave her a break and let her sleep. Pony forced some food upon her, telling her she had to eat. All she felt after that was the lull of sleep taking her down.

Poison watched Free fall asleep. “Are you sure it’s the right thing to do?” Kobra asked him.

“She’s in no condition. She can’t shoot, she’s sick, and she’s prone to making irrational decisions,”

The meds would keep her knocked out for a day or so. They hid her bike inside and hid the keys in an obscure location outside so she couldn’t follow if she woke up. Ghoul looked at her sleeping peacefully and felt sick that they were tricking her like this. It was for her own good, though. They’d be back with Grace soon enough. 

They loaded their bags into the Trans-Am and headed for Battery City.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Her eyes slipped open slowly. In her post-sleep haziness, she looked at the patterns of stains on the ceiling for a while before she regained full use of her limbs and turned over.

She came face-to-face with a not-very-bouncy Missile. She sat up and missile practically jumped into her lap, wrapping her arms around Free. She wasn’t talkative, she wasn’t happy…and Free looked around. Nobody’s stuff was here. “Grace,” she whispered, very low. She almost never used real names, but Free had the sickening feeling something was severely wrong. “Where are they?”

Missile looked up at her with tear stained eyes. 

“No,” Free said, feeling her stomach drop to a new level of low. “No, please, god no,” she repeated, tears threatening her.

Missile nodded, on the verge of tears, and buried her face into Free’s shirt. Free was shaking. They couldn’t be gone. Whatever had gotten Missile here, they hadn’t told Free. Not even Ghoul, the member she was undeniably closest to. 

Killjoys weren’t supposed to die. Killjoys never die.

Dr. Death Defying made his way into the room just then, accompanied by Show Pony. He had something on his lap.

“Ghoul told me to get this to you if something happened to him,” He said in a gruff voice as he handed her the package.

She opened it while keeping Missile close, and pulled it out. It unwrapped a new leather jacket, after she’d mourned multiple times over the loss of her old one. It was very feminine in detail, definitely made for motorcycle riding. The touch he added was printing a symbol on the back of it, like Poison’s. In a large purple circle, it displayed an antenna emitting a signal. Her new Killjoy symbol, making a play off of Frequency. Ghoul was giving her her name.

She found herself out back again, staring at the stupid target. One of the many places that held a memory for her. 

_“Keep your arm straight. Yeah, like that. Inhale,”_

She inhaled sharply.

_“Exhale,”_

The air wooshed out of her.

_“Shoot,”_

She pressed the trigger, not blinking.

The shot landed straight on in the center. “That’s for you, Frank,” she whispered.

\---------------------------------------------------

Later that night, she woke up when everybody else was fast asleep. She laced her boots up as tight as she could, and took out her helmet. She’d found the keys to her bike yesterday and patted at her cargo pants to make sure she had them. She slid on her new jacket to finish it all off. As quiet as a mouse, Free snuck out of the building and mounted her bike. Once she was one hundred percent sure she was ready- she had to make sure, because this would wake everybody up- she kicked the bike into gear with a loud roar and hit the gas as fast as she could for Battery City.

Nobody could get within an inch of 150 miles an hour to catch up to her.


	6. playing dead

She stopped at the edge of Zone 1. She was looking straight at Battery City. And yet, her bike sat in idle.

See, she had this perfect, heroic picture going in her head as she was traveling. She was going to barge in, be a motherfucking badass with a ray gun, find the Killjoys alive, and get out of there with them. Now, here was where she hesitated. The rational part of her finally kicked in. She was one, one against an infinite number. And fear. She knew, deep down, her fantasy wasn’t real. But everybody was in there. The ones that took her in, made her tip-top again, taught her how to survive. The ones that cared for her wounds, helped her create new things…taught her how to shoot a gun….

She wiped her tearing eyes with her sleeve. Damnit, another thing Ghoul had done for her. 

They wouldn’t want her to go down this way.

She put her helmet back on and kicked the bike out of idle, heading East.

She had that blind hope again, but ten times worse. Not only did she pray with every single cell of her body that the Killjoys were alive. She was now on the search again for another band of Killjoys, and one that would be irrational enough to go on a suicide mission to retrieve her band. 

Yeah, she needed some pretty shitastic good luck right now. 

\----------------------------------------------------

Three days of fruitless traveling, and she had a feeling that this wasn’t going to go as spectacularly as she planned at all. She’d run out of Power Pup yesterday. She was nearly out of water, and was helplessly lost somewhere in Zone 2.

A tumbleweed blew across the road ahead of her, signaling the wind had picked up some. That wasn’t a good sign at all. Yesterday, a small storm had come through the area, showing a little system was lingering. She looked around as she rode for something she could stop by, but everything was blank. No hills, no rocks, nothing. Of course. The wind was picking up harder now. Dust started to make its way in the air, but it was still visible out.

Two minutes later with no luck, she was getting blinded. Her helmet did a great job of filtering most of the dust out, but it wasn’t doing its job completely. Dirt tingled in her parched throat as she kept persisting like the idiot she was to find something to hide under.

The next powerful gust threw her bike off balance, though. She swerved off the road- thank miracles it was completely flat. When she thought she had a chance, she got off, but then the next gust caught her in a precariously balanced position. She stumbled and fell flat on her butt, her helmet managing to fall off in the process. No serious harm was done, but now she couldn’t see. The dust was blinding her and now straight in her face. She tried to put her back to the wind, but still was inhaling dust every time. God, her throat had never been this dry. No breath of air came clean to her, and she started to feel lightheaded.

She tried to use her jacket over her mouth as a filter, but it wasn’t just the air anymore. The hunger, the extreme thirst, and the lack of rest was taking her down. She felt extremely dizzy and really confused now, as if she was just waking up. She closed her eyes and proceeded to pass out not long after.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Free was just barely aware of what was going on around her when she regained some consciousness. Lukewarm liquid was dripped into her mouth, and she involuntarily swallowed it as her first sense came back. She felt rough fingers on her wrist.

“She’s alive. Barely.” A deep voice said, sounding far away, but it had to be close. “Who is she?”

_Zzzzzzip!_ that was the sound of her backpack. “It doesn’t say a name. She’s solo though. Look, she’s been running,” another one answered. She imagined he was holding up her supplies like extra batteries, the can opener, the utensils. 

She hadn’t opened her eyes and couldn’t even think of beginning to move. 

_“We can take her back to the station,” _The station._ _

“G-houl,” she tried, her voice barely above a whisper, almost too silent. Was he alive? Her rationality wasn’t with her yet  
.  
A hand touched her cheek, the same rough hand that had been on her wrist. “Hang in there,” it said, soft and full of caring. “Can you ride?” she rough-handed one asked the other one. She still hadn’t opened her eyes. 

“Yeah, I’ll meet you back there,” the other guy said, and she heard her bike come to life. No…wait, where was he going? That was hers. She moaned a little and the one that had been with her caresses her cheek one last time before she felt the ground disappear from beneath her. 

_\-------------------------------------------------_

Free woke up this time in much the same state: dazed and utterly confused, parched and ravenous. 

“Hey,” a slim hand waved in front of her face almost immediately. He hadn’t heard his voice before, and after staring at his hand a few seconds, she turned her head to look at him. She’d never seen him before. He was dressed ridiculously, like most of the Killjoys. Then again, this was coming from the girl who wore black, only the purple telling her apart from the monochromatic BL/i. 

Her inquisitive glare seemed to say it all. “Uh, hey. I’m Bullet Ringer. That’s Static Monster,” he gestured to somebody behind them. “The others are in the other room. Uh...so, like who are you? Oh, do you need anything?” 

She was getting barraged and was sort of slow to answer, which Bullet didn’t seem to settle with easily. He kind of scrutinized her and bounced his leg. 

She gestured to her throat for water weakly, but the one in back of him – she now got a good view of Static, picked up a canteen and tossed it to Bullet. She took it from his hands and pitifully sipped at it, relishing every sip with a vigor and thankfulness she hadn’t felt in a while. 

After she was done and a lot more alert, she answered him. “Massive Frequency,” she answered, her voice sounding off. She coughed to clear her throat. “Everyone calls me Free,” She nearly tripped over the word “calls”. She didn’t really have many people left for her. 

“How’d you get here? Why are you alone?” She was barraged again by the hyperactive one. Bullet. 

“First of all, where am I?” she asked, looking at Static. 

“You’re on the West side of Zone 2, Sunshine,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing another band of Killjoys. If you know me well enough, you know who they're going to be. lol.


	7. fists to a gun fight

Strange thing was, she’d managed to go a full forty-eight hours without seeing a drac. Or any trace of BL/i, for that matter. They were talking over more cans of Power Pup – god, she ached for something different, but she had to eat- when the conversation of her gun was brought up.

She stroked the barrel of it, reminiscing. “Yeah, it was…a gift.” She’d managed to get this far without telling them anything else other than that she was with another band of Killjoys. 

“Cool. I keep telling Bullet we need guns,” Rave chimed in. 

“Wait…you don’t have guns?” Free hadn’t payed much attention. “How in the world do you get by?”

“We’re like fucking ninjas, just not in black,” Bullet chirped.

Free snorted. She had gotten by with a souped up motorcycle and wit, but they were talking about bringing fists to a gun fight.

“You don’t believe us?” Bullet looked almost hurt. “I’ll make a bet. You win and we’ll learn how to shoot. We win and you’ll learn to fight.”

Free didn’t waste a second. What did she really have to lose from this? It was all in fun. “What’s the bet?”

“I’m betting you can’t shoot Rave before he gets to you and takes you down from twenty yards away.”

Free turned the gun down to the lowest setting so she wouldn’t hurt him too badly in case she did make a good shot. A silent “challenge accepted”. She wasn’t that great at shooting in the first place, this would be interesting.

They went outside the station – which reminded her of the other one, just not as home-y.

Rave positioned his lean little body away, sixty feet. He was tiny from here, and Free raised her gun and nodded. 

Wow, he was nimble. He anticipated every shot as he ran, moving into a front flip once to avoid her shot. Suddenly, he was ten feet away, and he did an absolutely amazing stunt Free wouldn’t have dreamed of. He took another bounding leap then launched himself off the ground, using Free’s shoulders as another launch pad with his hands, got behind her and got an arm around her neck.

Free had never gotten close.

Apparently now was her first lesson.

“Dislodge him,” Static said, obviously amused.

“Wh-“

“If you don’t, your air will run out. Actually, it runs out faster if you struggle. Sort of the challenge of a chokehold,” Static was having way too much fun with this.

She did the first thing that came to mind, which wasn’t what she intended at all, and wasn’t what they expected at all.

She shot him in the ass with the still-free right arm that held her gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, sorry, I needed this. So I decided I wanted a band of Killjoys that were badass in their own right. I'll make sure you get references for their looks soon.  
> And I needed some humor. Can't blame a girl for trying.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised you last chapter some character representations! Here's the best I could manage to do...
> 
> [ Bullet Ringer](http://www.polyvore.com/blindhope1/set?id=59562435)   
> [ Static Monster ](http://www.polyvore.com/blindhope2/set?id=59669150)   
> [ Metal Rave](http://www.polyvore.com/blindhope3/set?id=59670524)   
> [ Toxic Shock](http://www.polyvore.com/blindhope4/set?id=59673641)

“HOLY FUCK!” Rave cursed as they went inside. “God-fucking..UGH!” he hissed every time his legs moved. 

Yeah, shooting a ray gun close range, even lowest setting, wasn’t pretty to the recipient. 

Static was cracking up, as was Toxic. Even Bullet couldn’t suppress a smile. It wasn’t what they wanted her to do at all, but after making a theatrical show of claiming it to be the shock of inexperience, Free felt like she as going to win back some points.

Free blew the tip of her gun very theatrically before holstering it to her side, earning another laugh from Static.

\-------------------------------------------------

“If your balance is off, you’re going to land funky,” Bullet said, folding his arms. It turns out that they’d managed to improvise a whole gym of sorts in the back. 

They’d been going for a full three hours, and Free’ s legs felt like they were going to give out anytime now. Bullet was attempting to teach Free a front handspring right now, but Free just couldn’t manage it. Pushing off her hands from the ground made her all crooked and her weight fell on her right leg.

Free had already managed to master the cartwheel and the somersault, very basic and novice moves. Free felt like they were too easy and asked for a challenge. She hadn’t anticipated it being that hard, watching Rave soar through a series of moves like a pro. 

She found shooting a gun was easier than this.

“Again,”

Free backed up to the wall. She used it for leverage and sprinted three steps, all she could manage before she had to flip or risk hitting the other wall. This time, she managed to push off correctly from her hands, she felt that. She just couldn’t get her feet back under her and fell on her ass.

Rave laughed from his perch he acquired on a tall platform – which, by the way, the showoff climbed up with no rope and just used the pole and his agility.

“I’ll shoot you again,” Free muttered under her breath as she got up.

She took a drink from the canteen and wiped her face with her arm.

“Again,”

\------------------------------------------------------------------

No less than two full days of training later, Free was face-to-face with Toxic. She was still new to anticipating blows, but had done a fairly decent job of blocking so far. She blocked one fist with her left hand and swung under the next punch, delivering one of her own to the side. 

“Good. Once you have your hands on his head, it’s over,” Static reminded her. 

She tried kicking at his leg, but it was too firmly planted, and while she was putting forth the effort, hedelivered a blow to the back, right before where it met the neck.

God, that hurt like a bitch! She cried out in frustration as she broke off. The worst part? She was picking on somebody with maybe twice her strength. Not by her own choice, but Rave was more interested in watching. Again.

She tried once more. Accidentally anticipating the wrong move, she ducked a blow that never came and received a kick into her stomach. Hard. She cried out in pain again and staggered backwards.

Toxic made a fake gun with his fingers. “Pew!”

“You’re dead,”

Free groaned and with her back against one of the walls, slid down. Tears of frustration brimmed at her eyes. She wasn’t good enough. She felt an overwhelming sense of despair. She’d never be able to save them.

She couldn’t explain why she was so upset. She still hadn’t ever mentioned about the other Killjoys, even having been here a week. All but Bullet stayed in the room, leaving her politely.

Bullet crouched down next to her. “It wasn’t that bad a fight. You’ve gotten so much better!” he tried.

Free sniffled and shook her head. “It’s not that,”

“Then what is it?”

“I…I really can’t explain,”

“Sure you can,” he said, sliding right next to her and holding her close, much like he was her best friend. Free had worked out a few days ago about how empathetic Bullet was.

Free blurted out before she could stop herself, “I want to save them,”.

Bullet nodded. “I had a feeling you were hiding something,”

Free tried to clear her throat. She couldn’t leave it at that.

“I joined this band of Killjoys before I met you. Party Poison, Jet Star, Kobra Kid…and..f-Fun Ghoul,” she stumbled over the last name, on the brink of more tears. “A week ago, they went to save a little girl who was traveling with us. She came back without them, claiming they were….Better Living proclaimed they exterminated the Killjoys,” she said, a full out sob rising in her throat.

“And you don’t think so?”

“I haven’t believed them from the start,”

They sat in silence a moment. Bullet got up and tugged on her wrists. When she didn’t respond, he started pulling her – wow, he had a lot of strength for not being the manliest guy there – up onto her feet. He held her wrists tenderly in his grip as he tugged her to the mat. She robotically followed his gentle pull until they were to the center of the room and he stopped, but didn’t drop her wrists.

“Again,”

Free looked at him. Was he fucking insane? She just got her ass handed to her. He dropped her wrists, but she stood there with a horribly ugly post-crying face, a load of frustration, and no clue what the hell he wanted her to do.

“I said, again,”

Free trembled before pushing at his shoulders in a half-assed effort.

“C’mon Free. Hit me.” 

Free punched him in the chest, which he took fully with only a wince.

“Hit me!”

Free pushed at his shoulders, hard, with a growl of frustration. He stepped back to try to regain his balance but Free was already moving for him. He fell into a back handspring and got his balance back in order to avoid her. 

It was brainless now, as if she was reading Bullet’s mind. She was blocking and dodging hits left and right. She even got a few good hits of her own in. 

He aimed a roundhouse kick at her chest when he thought he had a chance. She bent so his foot passed right by her and used the fact she was already facing almost downwards to roll into a somersault under his legs. Bracing on her hands in knees, she used her left leg and hooked it around his right and pulled hard, bringing him down to the ground, where she promptly proceeded to keep him down by rolling over and placing an elbow on his chest.

They stood still for a few seconds.

“I knew you had it in you.” he claimed with his voice full of pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a hilariously fun chapter to write :D  
> Hope you enjoy! I have to use what little I know about fighting and gymnastics.


	9. family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some new tags went up if you've actually been paying attention. Ooooh.

She steadied her gun in his hands, but he held it out like it was something offensive. Free shouldn't have been laughing, she’d done the same thing maybe two or three weeks ago. 

Then, Rave acted like it was the best thing she’d ever done, and frankly, she was now a little worried about trusting him with the gun in his hands. She double checked that it was on low power. Triple. She went about ten yards out and braced herself in a ready position. 

She knew how to do this. She’d learned most of what they had. She was nowhere near as good or practiced, but Free could hold her own. She gave a thumbs up and pushed off her stronger back leg into a sprint. When the first blast came, the avoided it easily because it was off. 

That’s when Rave figured out aim. He shot them off in sequence now. Free had to make herself unpredictable. She dodged left and right and varied between aerial stunts and tumbles to avoid every shot. Undeniably, they came a little too close, she knew when she felt the heat. Finally, after a very exhausting ten yards- just thirty feet, but she had done so much her head was spinning slightly – she grabbed his gun arm and repossessed her gun, placing the gun to his heart and giving him the shock of his life when he thought she would shoot.

Free groaned, out of breath. She had nowhere near the endurance of these guys or the perfection. 

“I’m a little jealous of how fast you learned,” Rave commented.

“When you've got four badass ninjas as your teachers….” Free started, but never finished. The rest was implied.

“Why don’t you teach us how to shoot?”

Free blinked. “Well, I’m not really great with guns….I only had mine for a week before I met you. And, I mean, you have no need for them.”

“But we could,” he insisted, pursing a lip.

Free sighed. “I’ll talk to Bullet, you whiny brat,”

She holstered her gun to her side and entered in through the side. Inside, the radio was blasting Dr. D’s broadcast. His voice sounded familiar. Grace was obviously up to something though, you could hear it in the background as he spoke. She stared at the radio with a sigh for a moment, reminiscing. She was convinced that she’d be back soon though.

She found her intended goal in the back gym. He was the only one in there, which made Free wonder where Toxic was.

She watched him for a second as he but a ferocity and determination she rarely saw from the normally jovial Bullet. He was just lifting weights, standard bicep curls, and she couldn't tell how much he was lifting from here, but it seemed like it was a decent amount of effort from him, judging by his facial expressions.

She coughed awkwardly to signal to him that she was here, looming in the doorway. He looked up, all sweaty and gross but still somehow retaining that cute innocence on his face. She swallowed and walked in as he put the weights down to face her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt and all,”

“It’s fine,” he grinned. 

She paused awkwardly. “Why’d you take me in?”

He shrugged and answered immediately. “Killjoys always help another Killjoy,” That was true. And here she was, about to manipulate it. She felt sick doing so, but she just couldn't leave this be.

She swallowed again. “You remember when I...told you about my other band?”

“Yeah, of course,”

“I was going after them. When you found me. I…I mean, I can’t explain it, I was only with them like for a really short time but…I got attached, you know? They’re still like family to me. Just as much as you are. And-“

“Family?”

She blushed. She had actually meant that with sincerity when she said it. “Yeah, sort of. You feed me and let me sleep here, I think that counts enough,”

He quirked a smile. “Continue?”

“I...uh, was trying to go save them,” she admitted. “Then I realized I really couldn't do it alone, so I went to search for someone, then you came and got me when I ended up being an idiot. And I’m so selfish. I… I've gotta help them, and what I’m trying to say is…”

She was cut off by a finger to the mouth. When did he get so close? But wow, that one touch...it kind of made everything she was feeling click back together into some sort of shape. “I’ll help you. I’ll ask the others. But I’ll help you.”

Half of her mentally cheered. The other half wanted to cry.

Because in that moment, even how ridiculous it seemed, she realized she’d fallen just a little bit for someone named Bullet Ringer.


End file.
